


A Bard's Tale

by mxihi



Category: FFXIV
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxihi/pseuds/mxihi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I stared compiling a backstory/adventure of my WOL. It's silly and personal, and also, I have no idea what formatting is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I started writing a thing?

The young man raced down the valley with nary a thought, his eyes were fixed on the road ahead. With every quick look over his shoulder he threw another piece of armour to ground. Loosening his tassets he arrived at Florentel's Spire in nothing more than a tattered haubergeon and sollerets. Out of breath he slammed his fists on the door, using what energy he had left to gasp for help.

 _Seeing Gridanian Knights would be pleasant_ he thought. Collapsing onto the steps, he scanned the area. It's quiet. There doesn't seem to be any guards or patrol. Gathering composure, he slams his fists on the doorway. The Spire is unlit, not a candle to be seen; although no more than 200 yalms in the distance is faint light.

But he's desperate. Removing whatever was left of his haubergeon he treks forth, using his lance as a means to support himself.

 _It could be worse_. Visions took hold of the youth, the smell of burning, ashy flesh was still fresh in recent memory. Collapsing into tears at the side of the road he throws his arms around himself to shield his exposed skin from the night's wind. There isn't anything he could do now. The past is the past, and being alone is better than being dead.

The blinds opened in a flash, the bells signalling breakfast were deafening. Waking in panic, the young man turns to the innkeep. She stares back in shock. "Are you alright?" She asks, clearing her throat. Throwing himself out of bed he inspects the room. "Where are we?" His voice deepens to a serious tone. Outwardly nervous, the innkeep fidgets with her apron. "This is the Bobbing Cork, Sir." She settles and balls the fabric in her fists. "Some Wailers found you in the middle of the road and brought you in... You were in pretty rough shape." Examining himself she wasn't wrong. "Would you happen to know what's become of.. my uniform?" The innkeep is pensive. "Aeluuin, the bell boy would know better than me. But first we should get you something to eat!"

Never before had he the pleasure to eat such a well cooked meal, only to prepare one. The shrill voice of his mother rang in his ears: "Yves, If I catch you again trying to sneak some of this food... I'll cut both of your hands off!" Almost immediately he put his utensils down and stared at the innkeep. "Is it.. Really OK for me to have this?" Her perplexed look gave into a laugh as Yves began to tear up.

The midlander dropped the scraps of gear into Yves arms, and the sheer weight of all the metal made his knees buckle a bit. "So what's a knight doing this far out?" Yves could feel his ears burning. "Oh.. Me? I'm not a knight." Aeluuin looked the boy up and down. "I stole this armour." Yves said flatly. "It is quite the convincing costume I assume." Embarrassed he dropped eye contact.

"I used this armour as a disguise to run away."

Coerthas isn't the most hospitable place in Eorzea-- its mountain range, highlands, and plains are definitely breath-taking; much like the assortment of dragons and other dangerous local fauna. Up until a few moons ago he had lived a sheltered life as a manservant for the Fortemps manor, and now was running for his life from a fiery hell demon bent on swallowing him whole.

Yves had decided from a young age he was not going to grow into his mother's position as the Chamberlain. As not of noble birth there wasn't much of a position outside of serving. ( _Given that, a position to serve was almost an honour for himself and his mother, due to her 'meddling' with House Dzemael.)_

It happened to be a crisp spring morning and the clouds billowed into The Last Vigil, creating a heavy mist that hung thick over the Holy See. The Count appointed his eldest son, Edmont, to check in on the Central Highlands. Their family held a post at the Steel Vigil, and haven't had a proper report back in some time. There were just a handful of people chosen to make the trek, and Yves was lucky enough to find a Knight _'reluctant'_ to go. Knocking him unconscious, he ties him up in the wine cellar and strips the poor man of his chainmail. With a rush of adrenaline and guilt, he takes to the side of the Viscount towards the Steps of Faith. “Of the Sky, From the Sky, For the Sky”...

Aeluuin and the innkeep, Fiona, pulled out a map of the Black Shroud. "So this is where we are now.." She dragged her finger along the map to another point. "Where is it that you needed to go?" She asked. "You shouldn't have issue taking a Chocobo porter. There are plenty of routes and destinations." Yves stared at the map. The land was massive. "How can I get as far away as possible...?" Aeluuin and Fiona looked at each other before looking back to Yves. "Does Ishgard have Airships?" 

* * *

 She had finished sanding the grain and was wiping up her workstation. She sighed once the slow clapping began. "Well done again! I must say, such craftsmanship among new apprentices is.. Ahem. Seldom." Marcelloix towered over her and picked up the finished pattens. "You're probably my favourite apprentice Oulaje.." Inspecting them at another angle he closed his eyes and smiled. "I may have to commission a pair!" He laughed loudly and Oulaje couldn't help but blush. She didn't experience much attention at home being surrounded by her 4 other sisters and loved every minute of admiration. ( _Even if she didn't want to admit it_ ) While packing up her tools, the guild receptionist came running into the workshop almost dropping what _looked_ like a lance all over the floor. "Marcelloix... Marcelloix..." She kept trying to start a sentence while trying to catch her breath. "I know it's late but.. do we.. have any cedar.. wood.." Gently taking what looked like the spearhead out of her hands he looked lost in thought. "I don't think we have any cedar wood.. Who in their right minds would use such expensive materials? We don't have enough money throughout the Atrium to procure enough cedar lumber." He handed the spear back to the receptionist. "Well the adventurer said that the arms mender had ref-" "Refused, obviously." Marcelloix all-knowingly moved the hair out of his face. "Look at the state it's in A’naidjaa! Where is this said adventurer?" A’naidjaa gathered the pieces in her arms and led Marcelloix to the entrance. Intrigued, Oulaje followed.

He sat alone in the Oak Atrium's reception. It smelt like a mix of freshly polished furniture and sawdust. The receptionist he spoke with came tumbling in, juggling his lance, and with her came a haughty Wildwood and his assumed apprentice. Their gaze pierced deep through his head; Looking up at the mess of a weapon be brought in, the more ashamed he felt. Sinking lower into his seat Yves cleared his throat, his ears burning with embarrassment. Marcelloix laid his eyes over the broken lance before casting his gaze over to Yves. "So adventurer. How'd this happen? I've seen the Wailers and God's Bow bring back some mind boggling things but this.. This takes the cake!" Throwing his hands into the air he laughed. Yves felt the air growing tense. Since arriving in Gridania every encounter felt like this. "I'm not going to make a story up for this. I fell off of my Chocobo Porter and.." A’naidjaa and Marcelloix broke into laughter. Yves could feel his eyes watering. "No... No..!" Marcelloix burst out. "You're not joking, are you?" He turned his head to the receptionist and laughed again. "Well I'm glad you found it hilarious... Is there anything you could do for me?" Yves asked, trying to hold in his tears. Almost violently Marcelloix began to shake his head.

"I could fix this." Oulaje said softly. "But not today, as I've cleaned up my workbench already." From the corner of her eye she saw Marcelloix shaking his head in disapproval, his face distorted into the most disappointed scowl. But in front of her the adventurer had gathered his belongings and began to cry. "I'll come see you tomorrow then?" He managed. "Of course. Just ask for me, the name is Oulaje." Yves nodded, and tears bounced off of his face. Holding his lance tightly he grinned and briskly walked out towards the inn. Oulaje herself began walking out before she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Marcelloix turned her around to face him. "What goes on inside your head?" He turned to the receptionist and threw her a stern look. "Where do you think he stole that lance?" Marcelloix's face bunched up and he loosened his death grip on Oulaje's shoulder. "I just don't trust Duskwights, they're so.. Sinister!"

And she hadn't thought about that, but the adventurer's emotions seemed too real. _I'm not that easily duped_ , she thought. Walking to her lodging Oulaje began to think up ways on how to repair something so completely broken. 

* * *

It was probably the third time she's seen him cry in a single day. Yves held the borrowed lance in both hands delicately. "Wow..." He let go for a split second to wipe his nose before planting both hands back on the polearm. "This is probably the happiest I've been in awhile... It's splendid! You're amazing!"  Oulaje couldn't help but look away and laugh. Although the lance itself was now made of at least four different types of wood, she too felt accomplished seeing the relief in Yves' face. He slung it over his back and rummaged through a tattered coin purse. "I know we never discussed a price but..." He shook the bag around and dumped gil all over her workstation. "I've only got about six thousand gil but I-" Swiftly Marcelloix loomed over the coin, close enough to smell it, and coughed loudly to interrupt. "Where did you get this gil?" Marcelloix sneered. Yves doubled back almost falling onto his lance again. "Just about all my salary, and pay from work at Fallgourd Float." Marcelloix still looked upon him with suspicion. "Salary?" He asked. "Well you see, I worked as a manservant previously." Yves stated, almost bringing himself into a bow. Marcelloix's furrowed brow turned into curiosity. "For whom...? Lady Amandine?"  Yves shook his head. "I, Yves de Charledore... Faithful retainer to House Fortemps..." His voice lowered. _Shite_ ...! He thought. _So much for keeping up with the adventurer profile. What the hells have I gotten myself into now.._. Marcelloix and Oulaje stared, waiting for him to finish. "And.. well you see... I was tasked with escorting my lord's son, where lo and behold, we were attacked by one of the Dravanian Horde! I had drawn the beast's attention only to divert it from the rest of the group, and by the Fury..." Yves felt the guilt bubble up and spill over. “I hope that’s enough.” Quickly getting up, he eyed the entrance. But it was hard to leave with such a vice grip on his wrist. “I can’t possibly take all of this.” Oulaje was using both of her hands to anchor him. “I can’t possibly take all of this after hearing that. You’ve gone through much trouble to get here.” Marcelloix disagreed. “I don’t think he’s fairly compensating your ability!” He scoffed. “Marcelloix!” Oulaje hissed, loosening her grip on the squirming Yves.

“I think this only covers the materials used, not the labour. You’ll have to pay for that lance _somehow_.” Marcelloix sat back comfortably, and crossed his arms.  “Now, you did say you were a servant once before, if I heard correctly...”

* * *

Oulaje was finishing with cleaning up her workstation. There had been quite a large order made by the Conjurer's Guild for an array of staves, wands, and shields. Looking out the large windows the sun had set hours ago and the moon waned high up in the clouds. "You're still here? It's almost been 5 hours after sunset.." Oulaje asked, packing her satchel. Yves panicked. "You're not the only one here with big ears... How long have you been watching me?" Yves sighed and threw his arms around her. "Long enough to get bored." He nuzzled his nose behind the base of her ear. "Would you knock that off?" She quipped, squirming out of his embrace. Taking her previously occupied seat, Yves exhaled loudly. "Ah, you're no fun! There isn't a soul here, for one, and secondly, you're just too soft." He pouted, which prompted Oulaje to look away in embarrassment.

The caravan shook and shifted her forwards in her seat. Closing her eyes tightly Oulaje tried to think of something else, but insecurities continually plagued her. The bumpy road didn't deter Yves, who was fast asleep, his head resting on her lap. _I really do wonder what my family would think of you_ . She thought, running her fingers through his hair. Although it felt like forever the two had only met a summer past. Working so closely together they had become an irrespirable pair; Even after Marcelloix had to step out of the guild due to health reasons, Yves still stuck around long after his debt was paid. Oulaje had finished her apprenticeship and became a fully fledged carpenter, and at Timbermaster Beatin's request, she move to Quarrymill in the South Shroud to help with the local Guildleve. ( _Of course, she prepared herself to say goodbye to Yves, only to find herself unable to go without him._ )

"So.. I think I've got this straight." Yves had sat down on her workbench. "But what I don't get is.. If the Elementals are so angry and judgemental all the time..." "Shh!" Oulaje shooed him off her workbench. "They can hear you, you know?" She moved book upon book off of the saw table. "Could you make yourself useful instead of reading books about such mundane things? I think this is such a waste of pulp." Yves gasped. "But this is history! All of this is so interesting!" Yves stuffed a multitude of notes into the history books. "I'm not going to learn all of this quickly without reading.." He sighed. "You haven't been feeling well have you. What's wrong?" The two stared at each other from across the room. "Ah, nothing." Oulaje mumbled putting her tools together. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

It was superficial, and Oulaje knew this. Although the two had become betrothed she had been constantly assuring customers that they were only partners in business. She couldn't tell this to Yves as it would more than likely break his heart, but feigning their true relationship made business easier with the townsfolk.

Though the charade had sooner fallen through with the arrival of their son.

It had been the year of 1548, during the 31st Sun of the 6th Astral Moon when he entered the world. Being born with definite miqo'te features Yves urged Oulaje to give their son a typical Keeper of the Moon name. Reluctantly she obliged, and they welcomed Oul'a Garanhga with cheer. With his ashy skin and gold eyes Oul was definitely the image of his father. Oulaje's closest sister Tyahgo had even commented that at a second glance his ears were much longer and thinner than your typical miqo'te, and joked that "When summer comes he'll shed all his hair!" ( _They laughed but half believed it could actually happen_ ) While Oul was a well behaved child he did have issues trying to eat everything that got close to his mouth. Yves had found out the hard way that his son had large, sharp, and strong enough teeth to draw blood. ( _He cried for three whole days_ )

Before Oul's first name day, Oulaje and Yves were surprised to see Beatin and a few others from the Oak Atrium make the trip down to visit. Beatin himself was always pleased with Oulaje's work and didn't give up the chance to fashion toys for her son. "Make sure when he's old enough you let him work with me! I'm sure some skill was passed down. He practically _smells_ like varnish you know."

And try as she may, her son was not interested in carpentry. The sight of a hammer or saw would reduce him to tears. _Byregot will bless him in another way_ Oulaje would pray. For she knew her son was blessed by a God of lightning from the light she had seen after his birth.

Unfortunately, the two would never get the chance to raise their son. It happened very quickly; The letters Yves had sent home had been seized by his mother, and gave The Holy See information that not only included his location, but also the fact that he was alive. By a personal vendetta, footmen of House Fortemps marched their way down to the South Shroud to collect him. "Oulaje.." He would start. But neither could make eye contact. He left a cameo bearing the Unicorn, the sigil of House Fortemps, in her hands. "This is my most prized possession, so you must keep it. If only to remember me by." Trying his best to break a smile he would hold his son and wife for the last time. "When your travels take you to the Gates of Judgement, I'll be… waiting for you."

She couldn't watch as the caravan made its way towards the horizon, as the inevitable is... inevitable. Despite this, Oulaje still made prayers towards Halone, even if she could not put any trust or faith into her. Her first promise with Oul was that he never walk in the footsteps of war.

But she had fallen on tough times. With little work and motivation to do so, it became harder to care for her son and herself. Tyahgo hated to see her sister like this, and moved in to help. Because of this, poachers seemed to show up more frequently, becoming the biggest clients for arms. At first Oulaje declined, but with persuasion from Tyahgo she gave in. Money was money, even if it came with guilt and harassment. Majority of the 'clients' would refuse to speak with her, instead using Tyahgo as a middleman. "To affiliate yourself with Gridanians.. Have they no pride?" "I would sooner off myself than lay with Elezen!"

 _Leave any semblance of a reputation along with him there. You're not special, and your long running joke with the Gridanians is over._ She could hear her elder sisters’ voices repeating in her head. But at this point it wasn't a choice; Either be detained by the Wood Wailers, or executed by the Coeurlclaw. It was the early morning hours in Quarrymill, and Oulaje held her sleeping son close to her chest. "Please, forgive me." She whimpered. "That's for the Elementals to decide." The wailer looked over his shoulder towards town and back to Oulaje. He wasn't sure how to comfort the woman who was crying hysterically before him. "I can't stay here, they'll kill me." She managed. "But I can't leave here with my son, because they'll want to..." She held the infant tighter than before. The wailer felt his heart pang. "Hand him over to me. You should start running." Looking over his shoulder again he urged Oulaje on. As complacent as possible she followed his instruction along with handing over Yves' necklace. "A family heirloom." She lied. "Please.. Please promise me..."


	2. BACK FROM THE WOOD

Two youth stood shoulder to shoulder against a wooden beam in their house. "I bet this time _I'll_ be  taller." The other shook his head. "You're misthaken! Mother has already had to make me _two_ new pairsh of shlacks!" The two started clawing at each other before their mother walked back into the room. Smiling she held a pocket knife to the wall, where in the same spot had little nicks from summers prior. "Ok, Jules, it's your turn." The boy turned and slammed himself up against the wall, stretching his neck out. "Stand straight you dodo!" The two boys laughed. She cut into the wall with his height. "Well I'm sorry darling, but it isn't much of an improvement at all." Patting his back, Jules sulked away. "Renaud stand here." He jumped over the the spot and shut his eyes tight. "Four ilms!" Jules' jaw dropped. "Not again!!" He screamed. His mother comforted him while Renaud gloated. "You'll get taller in due time, don't worry there pumpkin." Still, he scowled in his brother's direction. "Next summer I'll be sure to tower over you!" Jules yelled, throwing his arms in the air. Pushing the boys apart their mother sighed. "Are you ready for dinner yet?" The two nodded in unison. "You'll want a full stomach for our venture into the city!"

Jules grabbed a long branch lying outside their home, jousting it in the air. "In a few summers I'll be old enough to join the lancer's guild you know!" He swung and stepped around the garden. "I'm gonna get better than dad, I'm gonna be the best!" He yelled, throwing the stick into the air. Renaud grabbed the branch and began replicating the moves his brother used. "Hey, I had that first!" Jules screeched, lunging out to grab the opposing end of the branch. "You threw it away!" Renaud spat, trying to tug the branch out of his grasp. The two grappled before it slipped, puncturing Renaud's left cheek. Jules gasped loosing his hold on the pretend lance. "Are you.." Seeing his out stretched palm with his own blood, Renaud flew into a rage, thrusting the branch into Jules' forehead. The two didn't realise their father had come home to witness the entire exchange. He swiftly grabbed their collars and dragged them inside, his eyes putting striking fear on-par to the Elementals.

Renaud was pulled into his father’s makeshift office. He sat embarrassed and ashamed, wiping the blood onto his tunic as to not dirty his father’s beloved sitting chair. "How many times have I told you? How old are you now?" Purposely not keeping eye contact, he cleared his throat. "Eleven thummers." His father nodded. "And has everything I've taught you gone to waste? For naught?" His voice had raised. "I know you two are going to fight and bicker, but this has just gone _too_ far! You could have seriously wounded him!" He began to shout. "I have told you countless times. Countless! I'm repeating myself!" The boy lowered his head, tightly closing his eyes to somehow absorb the booming voice. "Don't disrespect _me_ , Renaud Elouan Cledwyn! Look me in the eye while I'm speaking!" Eyes teary, he slowly lifted his head to make eye contact. "Don't you ever _dare_ raise your hands in violence." His voice has subsided and he turned away to face the window. "Have I... made it clear?"

* * *

 "You're going to be gentle here, it needs to be a very controlled motion. You don't want to damage the poor plant." Renaud held the scythe with sweaty palms. "I don't think I can do it." He gulped, feeling his face flush. "Sweetie, just relax. You're not always going to get it perfect. How else will you learn without practice?" Ophelie crouched down to the bushes level and reinforced Renaud's shaky stance. He gripped harder before taking a quick swing at the marjoram. Renaud picked up the fragrant leaves to see the satisfaction in his mother's face. "See? It's perfect." She assured him with a smile. "Can you eat this?" He asked, holding his mouth as wide as possible, the leaves inching closer to his mouth. She quickly snatched it out of his hands. "No.. Not like that.. That will not taste good." After gathering a sizeable amount, Renaud dropped the scythe and sat down next to his mother. "Mother, shince you've taught me so much about botany, are we going to learn conthuring next?" He asked, bringing his knees up to his face. Ophelie stopped to think. "W-well, Renaud have the Elementals ever spoken to you?" The young boy's face scrunched up, making the most bizarre face. "Elementa _what_ ?" He laughed. "No mother, you told me to _not_ talk to shtrangers!" She couldn't help but laugh as well. "Well, if you can't hear them than you won't be able to conjure. Until then, why don't we practice something else?"

* * *

"No.. No, no, no, no!!" Jules paced back and forth. "What are you doing here? Really? Do I have to deal with this today?" He threw his face into his hands and made noises equivalent to a screaming Ixal. " _I'm_ the younger sibling and I am _not_ going to look after youuuu!" _Overdramatic, as usual._ He thought. "Leatherworking and botany really aren't my thing. And I thought, well, if Jul _iette_ can be enrolled in the lancer's guild there isn't any reason I can't!" Jules shot him a dirty look and shook his head. "It would be best if you got back in time for them to, I don't know, not notice your absence? If you don't go quick I imagine father will unleash the fury of the Twelve upon you. Like he did last time." Renaud sat down across from his brother. "Nah, they know I'm here. Mother sent me into town for some errands, you know the drill." He lied. "I thought I would give you a visit!" Jules sighed loudly. "I know you know better than this, you stubborn bastard. I mean, you're obviously lying. No one would send you on errands this late." He forced a laugh. "I don't want to get caught up in any trouble you make alright? So go back to writing poems and picking lavender or.. Whatever the hells you do." Renaud resisted the urge to slap him and laughed. "Well for your information gathering flowers and writing poems _does_ please the ladies." He picked at something under his fingernails and smirked at Jules, whose face started to redden like a boiling Finger Shrimp. "I guess getting all sweaty and stabbing training dummies is really catching the attention of your admirer, eh?" Getting up to leave he was almost tackled to the ground by Jules, who ( _to no surprise_ ) missed and slammed right onto the wooden floorboards of the barracks. He didn't bother to get up as Renaud ran off, laughing.

He had skipped one of his lessons to bring Jules to a vista above town. "Remember when we would come here all the time?" Renaud laughed looking down at the town, kicking his hanging feet in the air. Jules shook his head. "Why are we here again?" He asked, staring down at the far off ground. The twisting large branches of the Black Shroud lifted them high over Quarrymill. Renaud smiled and pulled a small satchel out of his bag. "It was your fifteenth name day when we first found this place, and today's your twentieth! I thought for old times sake it would be fun to come back." He held the bag out to his brother who looked sceptical. "What is this?" Renaud just grinned. "A gift, you idiot." Jules shook his head violently. "No, no, it’s poison!" "Fine, if you don't open it you don't get delicious snacks _or_ great poems to use on women." He taunted. Jules snatched the bag out of his brother's hands. "You conned me you _dirty_ little hairy man!" He screeched. " _My weakness_!!" He yelled into the void. Renaud just turned to ignore him. "I can't believe you're throwing a tantrum here."

* * *

The four of them sat together in the small dining room. Gilles, with his broken leg, sat at the head of the table, Ophelie behind him. Jules continued to stare outside. The lancer's guild sent him back home as they were preparing their best to support the Twin Adder. Carteneau, he had mumbled, it's somewhere in Mor Dhona. He hadn't finished his training and was half relieved he didn't have to go, but still half disheartened that he wasn't chosen to join them. The house was completely silent. "They weren't kidding, it's definitely.. Getting closer." Jules nudged his head in the window's direction. Their father began to speak but his cough had gotten the best of him. Regaining his breath he turned to look at both Jules and Renaud. "Obviously... This isn't my deathbed, but I may as well tell you before that gods damned moon falls into the house." He sputtered again before taking a larger gasp of air. Neither of them could look in his direction. Renaud for the longest time had thought Gilles was invincible; Always bruised and cut from work, he would never complain. _That's what I signed up for didn't I?_ Even once walking through the front door with three arrows lodged into his arm like it was nothing. But whomever sat across the table was not the man in his memory.

"Jules.." Hearing his name he lifted his head attentively. "Please take care of your mother. You're always causing her too much trouble. Secondly, the Wood Wailers don't have a great standing with me. Don't expect your name to help you. You've got to get better." Jules's expression was a mix of shock, but also understanding. "Renaud..." Closing his eyes he paused for a while before speaking again. "I have something to give you." He coughed pushing his wife's hands off of his shoulder.

Gilles got up ever so slowly to his desk, pulling out a necklace from the top drawer. Coughing, he held onto the dining chair to make sure he didn't fall. "This is yours." He dangled out a black chain with a weathered insignia. Renaud sat speechless, but reached out to hold it in his hands. It was a smooth steel, cold to the touch. The three stared at him while he played with the necklace. "It's familiar. You've worn it before, haven't you?" Gilles coughed into his handkerchief. "I wouldn't wear it. I've got nightmares of the thing." He shifted himself in his seat to sit up straight.

But he definitely remembered it hanging from someone's neck. Albeit the memory was faded, and while now recalling it, the face he saw was unfamiliar.

Renaud had flipped the necklace over and over again. Someone was speaking but he heard nothing. Sitting inside his childhood home, the walls felt closer, the entire room slowly closing in on him. A tightly bound coil began to unwind; and the knowledge had sprung. It was sudden and quick, but he witnessed a vision that almost seemed to originate from the necklace. Jules waved his hand in Renaud's face. "Are you going to snap out of it?"

Ignoring Jules he snapped the necklace tight into his palm. His headache had somewhat subsided but the lingering effect still felt heavy. "You don't know why she was running, do you?" Gilles coughed in shock unable to say anything. Instead he stared nervously at his wife. Renaud could feel his temples burning and hands shaking, which caused him to loosen his grip on the necklace. He could hardly focus with the crushing heavy feeling of aether causing nausea. Perhaps someone had called out to him, but he had passed out at the table.

And time moves on; Dalamud had fallen and sent the Shroud into darkness. But it is from the darkness that the brightest light burns.

After the moon's fall Renaud noticed the fever dreams happening more often. He kept this to himself not to make Ophelie worry, as she was still recovering from her husband's death. The Cledwyn's had buried Gilles in their family's plot close to the Gelmorran Ruins of Issom-Har, to which were visited quite frequently. Renaud would typically accompany her to pay respects and offer what little comfort he could; The Calamity had shifted the ruins and many pick-pockets and wayward travellers had settled in the area. Leaving Ophelie alone to pray while a pack of Duskwights raided the caverns didn't sit well with Renaud, and so he had learned to patrol the area while she made peace with herself. During their quiet time together she would always speak of Gilles, but lately was silent. While the two packed for a trip out to the ruins Ophelie had stopped Renaud and sent him back into the house. "You should just gather all your things and make North for the city." She said. Her usually sweet voice had run dull and hollow. "I know it's best for you." Renaud could feel nothing but guilt for agreeing, but it was true. It was time for him to take his own path.

A kind merchant had agreed to take him into Gridania with all his possessions in tow. He was excited, but watching Jules and Ophelie wave goodbye he couldn't help but cry as the caravan drove away. Quarrymill had sooner become a point on the horizon than he anticipated, which caused him to hold his head higher and look forward with more certainty.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Pulling the necklace out from under his tunic he held the metal in his hands. Turning it over he held the Unicorn above his head where it caught the morning's breaking light.


	3. GONE FROM GRIDANIA

Renaud felt himself being shook awake by one of the merchants. " _ Huah _ .. We're here already?" Scanning the area around him there was still nothing but trees. The merchant shook his head. "Yer still alive though, which is good." Nervously he looked to the others sharing the carriage with him, each either asleep or interested in something else. "I reckon that aether runs rampant here in the Twelveswood. You kneeled over so quick I thought 'ya took a blow to the back of yer 'ead." The merchant looked relieved, taking another swig of ale. "So what's an adventurer like yerself goin to Gridania for?" He sat, chin in hands. Renaud laughed. "Ah sir, you're mistaken. I'm not an adventurer, I haven't roamed further than the Shroud." He paused looking out into the distance. "But who is to say I won't be going anywhere exciting in the future!" The merchant clapped enthusiastically. "Yeah, you've gots it!" There was a hard knock and the merchant hushed. A muffled voice from the front of the carriage sounded like a grunt. "Oaf.. Drunkard.... I outta.." Was all Renaud made out.  _ Must be a regular occurrence _ . The knock continued but this time with louder shrieks. Looking over the side of the carriage were Wailers up ahead. For a short moment he had pictured his step father in the distance. Slowly he leaned back in, trying to think of something else. And it was simple as a rain of arrows lodged into the floor of the carriage. With panic he swiftly jumped up onto his seat, looking across to him, to which the others didn't seem to notice. "Is this typical?" He pointed to the quiver of arrows littered along the floor. The merchant was more preoccupied with inspecting the bottom of his empty bottle, and the others were fast asleep.  _ Maybe I shouldn't have left _ he thought. A horde of beastmen emerged from the forest and were fighting with the Wailers up ahead. One had beckoned to the caravan and it began to speed up, racing past the shrieking Ixali chasing the chocobos pulling the carriage. The merchant threw one of his empty bottles, hitting the Ixali footman between the eyes. "Buggers." He spat. "Gonna give me a damned headache, don't they know the hour?" The caravan's speed had picked up considerably and the merchant still cranked his neck around to scowl at the beastmen. 

But after the whole ordeal they all arrived in New Gridania safely. The city had changed since Renaud's last visit five or more years prior, and he ended up getting lost at the merchant stalls. With determination he had reached the Lancer's Guild, but even after the trouble couldn't bring it upon himself to enter.

_ This isn't my dream. _ He thought. He sat on the stairs leading into the building and had gotten lost in thought.  _ What does Gridania have to offer me _ ? Being a member of both the Botanist and Leatherworking guilds he had no use to visit the Carpenter's guild. There was no point to study with Conjurors, as he already knew he could not hear the Elementals as clearly as everyone else. ( _ In fact, he had never heard them at all _ ) As reluctant as he was, he had made his way to the Archer's guild; with its history steeped deep in the Wildwoods being something of bittersweet comfort. The thought was cast away quickly as he was welcomed with open arms.

With the exception of Silvairre of course, who instead wore a sour face and questioned Renaud constantly of his name, and tried to punish him whenever he lifted a bow.  _ You're doing this wrong! You're disrespecting my people! _ Leih has tried to reassure Renaud by telling him to "Just ignore him, he's stubborn!" Although she tried to keep things light-hearted it fell on deaf ears. She had constantly brought up Keeper traditions that Renaud was clueless to, making him even more frustrated between his mentors. "Miqo'te are hunters, and the short bow has been used by us for decades!" Leih would explain. "But your stance doesn't quite work with this.. Your arms are too long, and you're too slow with it." He was ready to crush the maple shortbow over his knee. "Well, I'm trying. I guess I'm not cut out for this." He gritted through his teeth. Leih shook her head. "It should be instinct!" She said cheerily. "Maybe it's too early in the day?" He dropped his stance and equipment. Wiping away the paint that Leih brushed on his face he couldn't turn to face her. "I don't have any of this instinct you talk about, ok? I don't have the slightest clue what any of these weird rituals even do, or mean.." Leih just patted his back and placed the bow back in his hands.

Although both of his mentors had slowly begin to lose faith in Renaud's archery abilities, he continued to practice. He swore he heard the Guildmaster speak of him during a target practice. Fumbling with the shortbow he angrily shot a few before giving up. "An off day?" Luciane asked. Renaud was shocked to see the Guildmaster stand over him. "Ah, I suppose so. Though I wouldn't go as far to call it that, as I was never stellar to begin with." He sighed, staring off to the placards littered with arrows. She followed his gaze as well, crossing her arms. "I wouldn't say that. You've applied all our lessons and you have a firm grasp of the art, just a problem applying it." She held her hand out to Renaud, who handed over the shortbow.  _ Ah, I knew this was short lived. _ He balled his loose hands into fists.  _ I shouldn't have left.. What the hells have I gotten myself into? _ Luciane waved a longbow in front of Renaud, who wasn't paying attention. She cleared her throat and called his name, and quickly he stood straight to face her. "Try this." She nudged the bow in the air. "I think it would suit you better." He nodded, holding it gently in his hands. It wasn't much heavier than the short bow, but in comparison it was three times as large, standing at Renaud's height. "Ah, Luciane..." He started, pulling the bow taut. "I fear this is much too over-the-top." She watched with a Hawk's Eye. "Easen up, you have to be easier on the bow. You're too tense and that is ruining your cast." With a quick release the arrow hit the placard, the piercing noise seemed to echo. Without thinking Renaud had already planted the nock. "Fast now, don't go through the whole end!" Luciane's sharp eyes had softened as she watched Renaud's face light up.

* * *

It was a dewy and uneventful morning like many others, and Renaud had made his way into the Twelveswood to practice at the Bannock, but moreso to escape Silvairre's constant belittlement. ( _ The man was constantly offended that the guildmaster had let him borrow one of her bows _ ) While setting himself up he was distracted by strangers making their way north to the city.  _ If this isn't an opportune time to practice, I'm not sure what is. _ Collecting his things he followed the couple of adventurers closely. For sure they weren't from the area, their strange outfits, alchemic instruments and weird floating mammet were intriguing. Straining himself to hear snippets of their conversation, he kept his bow ready.  _ Archery, in essence, is evaluating your surroundings... _ But after a long while his knees had begun to ache from crouching in the same position. The two of these strange adventurers didn't seem to be causing any trouble, and so he began to pack up his bow. But promptly stopped as the trees behind him began to rustle.  _ Beastmen? _ Was the first thing to come to mind, before he found himself face to face with a tainted Twelveswood tree. Screaming, Renaud ran out into the clearing where the adventurers were inspecting things with their strange masks. Hoping he could make it out unscathed more tainted treants made their way closer.  _ Did they lure them out here? What are they planning... _

"Hey you, you've got a bow! Would you care to help?" The woman's accent was something he'd never heard before, along with the fact that she was just.. Punching. Punching the forest.  _ This is a joke.  _ "If you stopped talking maybe we wouldn't need any assistance?"  From a distance her companion looked like a child but had the voice of an older man. Confused, Renaud stared at them for a bit before they were completely surrounded.

'Usually this is the part when you run away' he thought.

But adrenaline had kicked in and he began to fire off a few arrows to assist the two. It wasn't long before the treants fell and the Ixali that caused this showed themselves. Downing the beastmen, Renaud felt a fever dream becoming. It had been a long while since this sensation had last taken him, and he was not looking forward to the heavy aether headaches. Of course, aether had collected in bunches after Dalamud's fall and he figured it would disperse sooner or later.

And there was nothing but light and a muffled voice.

Usually these dreams had given him insight to an event in the past, or so he was lead to believe. But this time he could not make out what was happening. The voice was calm and motherly, and the harsh light seemed to dim as it spoke.

Awakening, the two adventurers were directly above him, as if they were inspecting him as well.

"You OK?" The woman spoke, holding a hand out. Staring up past her to their mammet he just nodded, being lifted up off of the ground. Her small companion had been talking the entire time, but Renaud wasn't in the mood to listen to any of it. He clearly couldn't keep himself standing and the adventurers helped gather all his things and bring him back to the Bannock.

* * *

"You have been personally summoned by Kan-E-Senna." Renaud looked around at his guildmates before turning back to the conjuror. "You're definitely mistaken you se--" Silvairre began before he was interrupted. "Quiet.” The conjuror held out his palm to Silvairre. “I was speaking to Sir Cledwyn." Nervously his ears jumped hearing his name.  _ It's because of those weird adventurers. _ Renaud nodded.  _ It has to be because of them. _

The Lotus Stand was breathtaking, not only for its beauty, but also due to the air of authority and duty it held. Kan-E and her guards all stood with dignity and poise which made Renaud stand a bit straighter.

And perhaps he was too worried on his outward appearance, focusing more on steadying his breath than listening to instruction. But he understood the gist of it; Those strange adventurers weren't quite adventurers, rather the two were members of a society to... Help Eorzea? Or something of the sort. In any case, the aether in the Twelveswood has caused many of its inhabitants to become.. Angry. Hence the bloodthirsty I-thought-they-were-voidsent that he helped dispel, and Renaud himself was chosen to be a part of one of Gridania's festivals. Which in itself was pretty exciting after partaking in them as a child. ( _ Only once or twice, as Gilles had gotten into an argument with his siblings, and they weren't on the best of terms. _ )

"Ugh, I can't see anything with this mask on! Those Elementals..." A young Miqo'te girl stumbled along the stage of the Amphitheatre. Renaud held out his arm for her to hold onto. "It looks as though they haven't carved the eye holes correctly on your mask, miss." He chuckled softly. "Although, isn't it widely accepted that Miqo'te have.. At least decent balance? Or ah, night vision?" Realising what he said wasn't well received the girl threw his arm away. “Tch.” Echoed through her mask.  _ I honestly don't know anything about Miqo'te. _ He thought. "Sorry." Looking away he could feel the scowl through the wooden mask.

And evidently, he didn't have balance which caused him to tumble down, bringing the girl with him.

Luckily, himself and Luna had become friends instead of enemies. With both given the task of Gridanian Envoy they had made their way to the airship landing, with the first stop being Limsa Lominsa; A City State on the far off continent of Vylbrand. "There is fish, and lots of it!" She cheered. "Oh! And all the fresh La Noscean produce too..." She had chatted about her comrades and their knowledge of other large states as Gridania was slowly eaten up by the clouds billowing beyond the airship. Her stories had a nostalgic and friendly feeling, which had made the ride more enjoyable. "You wouldn't mind joining us, would you?" Luna's smile was almost hypnotic. ( _ It was actually pretty damn close _ ) "Another adventurer in our ranks would do good!" Of course, it didn't take long for Renaud to make up his mind, which made Luna happy. "When we're back in Gridania I'll introduce you to everyone!" She was pleased with herself, laughing as they boarded off of the airship. "Now come on! We've got work to do!" Grabbing his wrist she pulled him forward into a sprint. Breaking out into the Lower Decks he felt the need to just throw away his map and run. The adventuring bug had bit hard; of course, and it was only the beginning.


	4. A BARD’S TALE

Together as the Legion Renaud witnessed that those who exhibit the Echo also seemed to have more determination and strength. The adventurers in the Free Company had downed Ifrit like the Primal was nothing but a small-time voidsent.

Travelling had taken a toll on Renaud, and he decided to take a short break. Returning to Quarrymill with the thought to look after his mother. During his time away her health slowly began to improve; there was light in her eyes once again and that eased away some wandering nervousness. "Oh Renaud.." She said softly. "Your hair..." Turning away and rummaging through her drawer she pulled out an old pair of scissors. Admittedly, it had grown quite long. And Ophelie had always reminded him it didn't look professional. "How do you expect anyone to take you seriously! With that mop covering your eyes!" (Her shaking hands didn't help, but it wasn't anything the aesthetician couldn't handle.)

Out one night while gathering some firewood he had spotted Silvairre and Leih; For them to be this far out of the city was a surprise and led Renaud to investigate. Silvairre had flagged him down almost immediately, ready to unleash a fury of arrows upon him. "You choose the absolute  _ worst _ times to show up." Silvairre groaned, leaning on his bow. Leih herself looked exhausted. "We've been on the trail of some poachers for hours, having another helping hand would be great Renaud." Looking around it was just the two of them, with no traces of anyone else from the guild. It set off an alarm in his head, but he figured there was reason for it. "I'd be happy to assist. Let me grab my equipment "

* * *

_ Although foggy, the echo experienced this time was clearer than most; the scene was the aftermath of a skirmish somewhere outside of Quarrymill. The man, standing in shock, had somehow pinned the woman to the ground with her polearm. While she hissed and screamed he stared back in bewilderment. Exhaling loudly her body laid motionless. "Release me." Though visibly calm, each word held a piercing and angry tone. "She was wrong about you. You Duskwights are all the same." The man's surprised face quickly flew with anger. "Excuse me?" The lancer sighed loudly, and taking advantage of the man's strange centre of gravity, swiftly nudged his legs in a way that sent him toppling over. Letting go of the lance, she pounced forwards, grabbing it back into her hands.  Brandishing the lance she pointed it towards the man. "Don't play dumb with me, you've got a hidden knife somewhere on you.” She scoffed. “Nothing but a thief! You stole everything from my sister!” His face flushed with new fury, fists wound up as tightly as possible. “I don't know how your life was up in the clouds, but here in the forest it's hunt… Or be hunted! It's because of you that Mujuuk is going to get her killed, you know?! The Coeurlclaw don't mess around.. You understand!?!”  _

* * *

"Took you long enough." Silvairre quipped. Rearranging the arrows in his quiver, he hoisted it over his shoulder. "Lucienne sent us out here to look into some poachers. God's Quiver and the Adder have more pressing things to look after, so it's just a few of us from the guild." He looked more annoyed than usual. "It's really  _ none _ of our business." Renaud sat down across from him, still trying to tie up what he saw in the echo. "We lost a few already when we split up.” Leih sighed, holding her chin up with her hands. “I fear for the worst..” 

“ _ The Coeurlclaw don't mess around _ ..” He muttered.

Leih and Silvairre perked up. “Renaud?” Leih looked around nervously. “W.. What did you just say?” Lowering her head, and leaning in closer to Renaud her face was full of worry. “What do you know about the poachers..” She whispered nervously. The mood had turned drastically, and his stomach tied itself into knots. “Being honest, I don't know a thing. But I had a vision…”

* * *

Leih screamed, holding her wrist out with an arrow protruding through her index finger and thumb. Still, she attempted to knock her bow. “Oohh.. How's that hurt, girlie?” The poacher stood tall, her arrogant tone showed through her stance. “There's no way you'd outsmart us, in such small, few numbers. Unless of course, you two are here because you'd love ‘ta join our ranks!” She smiled, bearing fangs. “The thrill of the hunt, am I not right!?” She laughed, throwing her hands in the air. Leih’s face softened, almost breaking a smile. “You'd really do that?” 

Pawah Mujuuk’s laugh was more a shrill scream and raw excitement than anything else as it echoed through the thick. “Did.. Did ‘ya honestly think? That.. That I would let you join us?” Sheathing her bow she doubled over in laughter. Leih's spot of innocence grew sour, her face more pale than usual. “I'd never allow the likes of you to join me. You two are a mockery of our art! Your first mistake was to join the Gridanians, girlie. And your friend…” Bunching her nose up, she coughed. “He smells like --” An arrow had grazed her cheek, and following its airborne path led to a shadow in the tree, unmistakably Silvairre's. “I don't think the ‘if you can't beat them, join them’ is going to work. Let's get you cleaned up.” He held his bow taught out at Mujuuk who, now surrounded, whistled for backup. Silvairre's laugh was drawn out, and almost exhausted. “Don't worry, I took care of your mates.”

Arrows flew from both sides, both determined to bring each other down. One darted past Silvairre, cutting his cheek open, though he paid it no mind, knocking his next arrow as usual. “You have to help him Renaud!” Leih yelled, startling him. He had been absentmindedly watching the two fight. “If we keep stalling this, more poachers will arrive won't they? Now is your chance!” She urged on, voice a mixture of anger and pain, as her hand was still incapacitated. “If we can take her down here, we still have a chance to get back to their base and retrieve the rest of the stolen items!” Renaud dropped his satchel onto the ground. “Leih, I took everything. Hold onto this for me, will you?”

Unsheathing his bow, he chased off after Silvairre. It was a rash decision to leave Leih alone in her current state, but time was of the essence. Silvairre had backed Mujuuk into a corner, and her act of arrogance had dropped. Using his to his advantage, Renaud fired off an arrow, hitting her squarely in the shoulder. Caught off guard, she turned her attention to Renaud, who was ready to fire another one at her. Silvairre’s arrow got her down, and the two watched as she fell off the cliffside into the water below. Panting, the two of them exchanged a look of relief.

Luciane’s next task for Renaud was different than usual. Of the items reclaimed from the poachers was a small gem, something that resembled a chip off of a worn ale bottle. It belonged to a mentor of her’s who returned to the Twelveswood and resided around Quarrymill. Since he lived in the area, she thought it would be a good idea to meet with the gentleman before returning home.

“Quite an odd trinket.” Renaud remarked, turning the gem over in the palm of his hand. It was smooth and surprisingly warm for a rock. Luciane nodded in agreement. “It was important to him before, and I do believe he will need it again.”

Her mentor was an elderly man who lived in the woods, and thinking upon it, Renaud had seen similarities between him and Gilles. Although these similarities only went so far, as Jehantel had no life behind his eyes; He stared off into the distance while speaking, like there was no one around him.  _ This man was once called The Godsbow.. _ Renaud reflected on what Luciane had said about him. He had to trust her.

“So, Renaud was it…” Jehantel started, not lifting his gaze from the small harp he held in his hands, absentmindedly strumming a tune. “Luciane told me you're working on archery.” Renaud nodded. “I have been practising for quite a many moon. But Luciene has exhausted her knowledge and thus has sent me to learn under your tutelage.” From his satchel, Renaud pulled out the gem he had stolen from the poachers. “She has also sent me to return this to you.” Holding it in the palm of his hand, it caught some scarce light, as if it was emitting light. Jehantel’s stared in shock, or fear, whatever emotion it was. It caught the both of them off guard. “The.. The..” Jehantel gently reached to Renaud’s palm, but hovered his hand over the gem. “Where did you find this?” His seriousness held some sort of urgency, taken aback Renaud described in quick detail the run-in with poachers.

Jehantel began to speak but held himself back with a pensive face. “I can entrust you with The Soul of Bard, on Luciene’s referral. You were the one to retrieve it, were you not?” Confused, Renaud nodded. “Yeah, this rock a stood out amongst the other stolen things.” Taking a second look at the gem, it really did appear to grow faintly. Jehantel cleared his throat. “She would not have sent you if you had no proficiency with the bow, but..” Strumming at his harp the old man finally made eye contact with Renaud. “How is your song, your rhythm, your voice? You can't contribute to battle with just force alone. You must  _ support _ your allies. We will practice. I will teach you of song and verse.”

* * *

Renaud could feel his face flush with colour, luckily his ashy skin tended to hide most embarrassment. His peer’s silence spoke louder than anything else, having all four of them crammed into a small cave. “Renaud?” Luna's whisper felt like a hammer crashing into his head. “Must you always run so erractly.. Everywhere..”  _ I didn't have anything to say for myself. _

“Sorry, I took a bad step and--”

“David, are you OK?”

The midlander was white as a sheet. In the dark cave Renaud wasn't sure if it was sweat, tears, or both dripping from his face. “Gods, I--” 

David sighed loudly. “I-It’s… OK Renaud.” 

Luna had been caught up in the preparation of a banquet for the Band of Heroes, adventurers who had downed the Primal Titan. Somewhere along the line a small Goblin had given her the task to find cheese, or the recipe for cheese. Either or, it didn't matter. She asked Renaud and two other Legion members to accompany her through the dungeon. Arvash, an Elezen trained in the art of Black Magic had volunteered to assist, along with David who had his Blacksmithing tools pried out of his hands by Luna and was dragged to La Noscean with the rest of the group. It had gone smoothly until just recently, and now all four of them were pressed back to back in a small cavern hiding from a small horde of dragons. “They seem to have backed off. Let's press on.” Luna agreed with Arvash and nudged her cane on David's shoulder. Following the three of them single file Renaud tried his best not to step too far out of line.

But after a few failed attempts at supporting the team he felt he had to take some time off to practice and work towards bettering his skill; not only as an archer, but also as a newly realized bard. Under Maelstrom command he spent many moons on the isle of Vylbrand, training with the resident beastmen and playing in the crowded alehouses along the shores. For a short while he disappeared off the map, having learnt to hide in the shadows from fighting alongside pirates. (Which came in handy, as the Maelstrom were not impressed with his Sahagin alignment.)

Working alongside Jehantel he was confident enough in his ability to aid the Legion with not only his bow, but also his voice. Although in a half-summer’s absence he could hardly recognize his peers; those who excelled had gone the furthest mile, trumping the progress he made himself. But this time it was not discouraging, it was a motivation to continue bettering himself.

“You two have shown quite the improvement!” Yolvi’s usually serious face had semblance of a grin. “And so, the two of you have been promoted within the Legion.” Luna’s eyes widened as the group around her began to clap, Lauren’s cheer being heard above all. “But that's the good news.” Shuffling the papers on his desk Yolvi cleared his throat, returning to his serious face. The commotion died down and all waited patiently for Yolvi to prepare his speech, as usual. “We've heard unsettling news that the Ixal of the Twelveswood have been gathering necessary tools and materials to summon their primal, Garuda.” He looked around the room, now silent. “It's not urgent as there isn't any further news, but please be prepared if we are to be summoned for this primal threat.” Simultaneously the group nodded. “This concludes our meeting. Venture forth with honour.” Despite the news, they all cheered and continued to congratulate Luna.

* * *

“Mr Cledwyn, kupo!” The moogle bounced around Renaud, startling him. “Your duty as a mail moogle isn't over yet, kupo!” Even with such a small, cute voice, the moogle was terribly demanding. “This is going to Momodi! The Quicksand in Ul’dah, kupo!” Taking an adorned letter out, he placed it in Renaud's hands. “Make sure it gets there, kupo!” Renaud nodded. “You can count on me for that!” Renaud chipped in, the false enthusiasm seeping through.

And it  _ would _ get there, just later than expected.. As Renaud had gotten himself caught in a group of travelling Miqo'te dancers.  _ A street show without music is pitiful _ , he thought to himself. Strumming his harp, the girls had given him many ideas for lyrics, detailing the city itself and its surroundings. “You should be writing lyrics about  _ me _ !” One of the dancers would suggest, leading to bickering between them, only to the delight of Renaud.

“She's a jewel in the desert, a treasure you see..  
The image of the Sultana, appearing before me..”

Of the group congregated around him, a small lalafellin girl stood out and caught his eye. Her small, round cheeks were burning a deep rouge colour. With that, he couldn't help but send a smile her way.

“Made of finely crafted jewels and porcelain…  
With her smile, I'm granted the finest fortune!  
And from beneath this desert's shaded trees,  
Her royal heart and starry eyes, will guide me~”

* * *

“Ah, Momodi! I have orders from the Deputy Postmoogle to deliver this missive to you.” The proprietress of the Quicksand quickly turned up her nose up at the stench of the letter, dripping in at least three different kinds of perfume. “I apologise for the lateness, and before you ask, yes, it was definitely like this when I received it.” He lied through his teeth, handing the letter over. Momodi sliced the wax seal open and quickly read over the contents, sighing loudly. “Thank you for deliverin’ this Renaud. If you receive any more from this anonymous sender please… Just dispose of ‘em.” Putting the letter down behind her desk she jolted up to the counter. “Ah, miss! How long have you been waitin’ there?” Renaud looked around before shifting his gaze downwards to see the small mauve-haired lalafellin girl barely reaching to the counter. “I… I was here before him.” She whispered and hobbled up onto the seating so Momodi could see her clearly. Momodi of course stood astonished, and turned to Renaud. “Why, I can’t believe I missed you standin’ there! I’m terribly sorry!” Bowing, she smiled and returned to her typical welcoming behaviour. “Welcome to the Quicksand, friend! What can I help you with!” The small girl looked stopped in her path; pensive and frozen in time. She had to work up to speaking, as if something was holding her back. Momodi’s expression had become gentler than before watching the small girl. “I'm sorry to interrupt..” Renaud had turned his back to the two. “But I must be making my leave. Wishing the best of luck to the both of you.” Momodi nodded, focusing back on her visitor.

* * *

 

Hindsight is definitely more reliable than foresight, even if the echo could predict something like this. Renaud had never come face to face with a primal; the bloodthirsty manifestation of endless prayer was not just strong, but terribly so. Gasping for air as the whirlwinds’ speed seemed to hasten. 

Against his better judgement, he raced after the Ixal beastmen. Be it ingrained hatred or a repeated mistake of his stepfather, he wouldn't have known. It was his first thought to subdue the Primal threat, it's the job of an adventurer, is it not? There weren't any second thoughts, even as he lied half dead in the middle of a vortex conjured by the Lady of Gales herself. The air was thick, and warped everywhere around him, and he had accepted this as his end; closing his eyes hearing only Garuda’s twisted laughter.

Perhaps it was a dream, as he had awoken in Camp Dragonhead, where he was before setting off to Natalan. “You okay there bloke? Took a pretty bad spill out there, almost fell into Witchdrop.” The female dragoon was waxing her lance. “You still up for going after the feathery bastards?” Renaud cautiously rolled up to a sitting position, thinking over again in head how real his real his death seemed to be. “Would you laugh at me if I asked… if I was alive or not?” He tried to mask his confusion with utmost seriousness. “I have a vivid memory of fighting..” The dragoon muffled her laughter. “I'm pretty sure you're not fading into the aether. I'm almost positive that'd it be noticeable.” She turned her head to the two midlanders that made their way into the room. “That's the bard you found?” The Arcanist asked soft-spokenly. With that the Paladin nodded. “Yeah he had this grand plan to make ends of the beastmen, broke full speed and just passed out.” The man's voice sounded exhausted. Making direct eye contact with Renaud he sighed. “I'm not going to carry you all the way back here…” The dragoon dropped buffing her polearm to look up at Renaud. “I wouldn't have picked him up for our little group were it not for Master Alberic’s reference!” Still, the Paladin was not persuaded. “I don't like randomly choosing someone because your teacher had good things to say…” Renaud had tried to tune out their bickering to focus, but their heavy opinions were like a slap to the face.

_ I'm not ready for this yet. _ Standing straight, the three adventurers stopped throwing insults and snapped their gaze at Renaud.

“I appreciate that you've given me a chance to fight alongside you, but I'm afraid I may not be the person you're looking for.” Slinging his bow into his back, the dragoon frowned. “Best of luck in your endeav-- Ow!” It was a painful pinch from his lower back that spun Renaud around, only to see a lance squarely staring him down. “You're not going anywhere!” The dragoon said, tauntingly. “Our merry little group needs you.”

* * *

_ “You're a piss poor looking knight, and I don't know a thing about pole vaulting.. but that sure as hell don't look like the right way to hold a lance.” The young man, who probably hadn't seen more than 16 summers fidgeted with the weapon, dropping it. The guard shook his head, turning away from the abysmal sight before him. “Your boots are going to come clean off as well, tighten those before you start running half-twit. Your group’s already gone ahead.” Bolting his head up the young man sprinted, dropping the lance in front of him, and watching it roll down the cobblestone path. He groaned, treading through the heavy armour covering his head to toe. Waddling behind the dozen other infantry the group didn't seem to notice his clumsiness or quietness. Perhaps it was normal of someone his rank, or maybe they were too afraid to ask what's gone wrong. “Something in your shoe there?” He stopped to catch his breath after dragging his tired feet. The craggy mountainside, riddled with twists and turns seemed endless, making the trek to the Steel Vigil nothing but a spot in the distance. _

_ “Father had sent knights here, and our camp is deserted!” Edmont’s voice echoed through the highlands. Throwing his coat over his shoulder, he turned to one of his manservants. The older man looked troubled. “Our orders were to inspect the Steel Vigil my Lord.” Edmont shook his head in objection. “We don't have enough men here if there is some sort of threat!” His pensive face showing through someone wise beyond his years. “But I can't leave my father disappointed, he expects from me. Carry on.” _

_ And of course, they wished they hadn't. The Steel Vigil had it’s masonry exposed, rocks stained with blood of unknown origin. The air felt dead, and turning to each other to affirm their thoughts, they nodded almost in unison. Blood curdling screams erupted from the fortress, leaving the young Lord frozen in shock, mouth agape, his deep blue eyes fixated on the charcoal-ridden sky. _

_ “Dragons!” One of the knights shouted, unsheathing his blade. “We’ll make our way back, now!” Another had shouted from the rear of the group. Suddenly, a large scalekin burst forth from the pillars of the Vigil, peeling down a wall, billowing flames frothing from its open mouth. The shrieking was almost deafening, the escorts had all doubled over to dampen the sound by covering their ears. Falling back onto his lance the young man tripped over loose stones, either from the ground or remnants of the post. “Stop staring, and start running you fool!” A friendly knight had begun to lift him from behind. “If you stay here, you'll be burnt, or crushed, or eaten, or worse!” The young man made no attempt to lift his own weight, still shocked from the sight, and stunned from the multitude of screaming voices that belonged to the Dravanian Horde. “I don't want to even know what's worse! Move your sorry ass, or I am leaving yo--” _

_ The Aevis cleanly tore open the man’s chest and neck, throwing him to impale upon the natural daggers of the highlands. Locking eyes with the scalekin for mere moments the young man, as if he was suddenly possessed, sprinted as quickly as he was able to carry himself, holding the lance to his chest. Watching as brethren burnt away, trapped in their armour, screaming for help, and screaming of their assailants. _

* * *

“Dragons!!” 

The congregation outside awoke Renaud in a panic, amplifying his sudden nightmare. Since arriving in Coerthas it had become a common occurrence; These strange dreams he had almost become accustomed to. Though be it of the echo or his own mind’s making, he was unsure. The contents seemed as real to life as possible, he had been waking in a sweat or in pain as if he had partaken in the vision. Shaking off the remnants of his headache he dressed, waiting for the situation outside to resolve. But it didn't. The inn room, once shared with a few others, was empty. Their battle equipment missing, all personal belongings also absent. Peeking outside there were just mobs of people gathered around the northern gate.

“The wyrm!! Kill it!!”

The knights struggled to control the black scalekin roaming down from the mountain. The Aevis screeched and thrashed about, knocking over other Aevis and knight alike. Bow in hand, he stood more pensive than battle ready. Scouting the crowd for a similar face to the man who was mauled, he worked cautiously. But there didn't seem to be such a soldier. The adventurers who rushed up to Providence Point began the trek up to the abandoned fortress, the knights following suit.

“Luna?” Cane in hand and dressed in white robes she accompanied David towards the Vigil. “What are you doing here?” Of course, he was met with her usual playful demeanor. “Haven't you heard! There’s a huge dragon! The astologians at the research camp predicted an influx!” Large shadowed figures glided overhead, and the grounds were littered with Aevis. She laughed at both David and Renaud’s outwards nervousness. “You both don't need to look so scared! The rest of the Legion isn't far behind!” Renaud laughed, but couldn't help envisioning his friends caught between fang and claw.

The large wyrm, Svara, or at least that was what he assumed their name was, had flown down into what was left of the Steel Vigil. Accompanied with smaller scalekin, their combined roar filled the air, which rumbled into the ears of adventurers. With shortness of breath and terror, what little skill Renaud had with the bow was gone. If an arrow somehow left its quiver, it didn't leave his shaking hands. Instead he stood still, panting, and littering the snow around him in arrows.

* * *

The shift in climate from Coerthas to Thanalan was also terrifying; after spending enough time there Renaud had become accustomed to the snow, and while visiting the Waking Sands, felt like melting into a puddle. Fanning himself while speaking with Urianger, he completely glossed over everything the Scion had to say in favour of not drowning in his own sweat. Urianger obviously noticed he wasn't paying any attention, ( _ as usual _ ) but continued speaking of Primals, maybe hoping that Renaud would come around and make attempts at listening.

Thancred came up over the linkpearl to distract him further ( _ which Renaud didn't mind, the sooner he could take the next ferry to Limsa Lominsa, the better) _ about another adventurer he believed possessed the echo. Thancred was already in Western Thanalan and would be bringing them to the Waking Sands shortly. Renaud tugged at the collar of his tunic, planning to remove it. “Do you need anything else from me?” Renaud asked, although it was apparent Urianger was waiting on a reply from him. “I'm sorry, seeing you in a full-body cowl is making me even more hot.” After laying shirtless on the tile for a good fifteen minutes Renaud finally opened his eyes. “She was really tough Urianger.” Renaud sighed. “I believe Hydaelyn sent me a vision before I challenged Garuda.” Urianger moved his head ever so slightly, almost making notes in his head. “That is quite commonplace. The echo makes her way known in many forms.” Renaud took a deep breath. “Others who took up her challenge, they didn't watch their death play out in front of their eyes, did they?” His infliction of tone turned almost bratty. ( _ Noticing this he fell silent, more embarrassed than anything. _ ) The goggles covering Urianger’s eyes made it seem like he was staring off into nothing. “I'll make note of that.”

Preparing to venture out again he had begun to organise his belongings. Renaud heard a familiar voice; Thancred’s explanation of the Waking Sands were always so grandiose, painting himself in particular the hero that Eorzea needed. Of course, he wasn't talking to himself. Steps behind him was a small figure, and upon a closer look Renaud realized it was the same small lalafellin girl he’s bumped into before. ( _ Or so he thought, all lalafell looked the same to him _ ) Though standing in nothing but his newly hemmed Choral Attire he was unsure if she would recognize him. “It's a pleasure!”

And it clicked, this new adventurer Thancred had spoken about was ( _ more than likely _ ) the new adventurer he came across in the Quicksand.  _ I found her first! _ He was ready to blurt out, but thought better than that. Her hair, posture, voice, and general uncomfortableness towards him were definitely the same.

Renaud broke a half smile and laughed nervously.  _ Am I doing something wrong? Most women are lying at my feet by this point.. _ “Well I must get going, it was a pleasure to see you again.” Turning to leave, he spun back on his heels to interrupt Thancred. “I don't believe I've introduced myself properly before..?” Finding himself bent over in a full bow, he pulled himself up to pose, as he of course, was still exposing his unclothed chest. “Name’s Renaud! Feel free to call on me when you need a bard, or… anything more.” ( _ Thancred was definitely rolling his eyes at this point _ ) She reciprocated with a polite curtsy. “I’m Popola Pola. It was nice to meet you again.”

And it wasn't the last time they'd meet again, for they crossed paths at the Silver Bazaar, the Bannock, even at the Red Rooster Shed in far off La Noscea. Renaud had become accustomed to firing off a nock of arrows to assist ( _ and surprise _ ) her. The way her eyes lit up in shock tugged at his heart strings, something that seldom happened in his string of admirers. “Do you know how close you fired those arrows?” Renaud barely listened, instead focusing on the small girl's blushing full cheeks, and pink pursed lips. “Mr. Tia, could I ask you something?” Renaud looked around before giving Popola an inquisitive look. “Are you following me?” His slightly opened mouth pulled into a smirk. “Why my lady, of course not!” Crouching down to see eye-to-eye she stepped back a step. “By Nymeia’s divine thread are we spun together!”

* * *

_ “Hey, Cledwyn, what are you picking at?” Crouched in the corner, he sat with a knife in one hand and a bone in the other, whittling away at the marrow. “Of course I get stuck with you as my partner… Could we focus and start tanning this hide?” Slowing his shaving rhythm, he sloppily turned his head around to face his partner. “Just tell the instructor that I got sick? How hard is that?” Renaud sighed, getting back into the groove of shaving down the bone he found. His partner pulled the knife out of his grip. “I'm not doing all the work. Give this to me.” Placing the knife on the side table next to him, he held his hand out to Renaud. “Hand that over too.” But Renaud stood his ground, face twisted into a pout. “This here is important!” Reluctantly he held out what looked like a warped piece of bone. “It’s a ring. I'm going to use this to propose!” His classmate stood speechless before he laughed. “You’re such a fool…” Though his resolve was still unshaken, Renaud began to smile. “It is in pretty bad shape now, but in time it will be perfect. Something I've created with mine own hand!”  _

_ Clenching his fist tightly he opened his eyes to classmates all trying to hold their laughter in. His Leatherworking instructor confiscated and destroyed his prototype ring. _

_ ‘Bone is not the answer’, he thought. ‘Fate sees to it.’ _

* * *

Jules sat at the dining table across from Renaud who continued to eye their father's writing desk. Reluctant to start a conversation he waited for his brother to speak. “Jules?” He acknowledged his name with a grunt. “Would you remember where I put that ring I made?” Renaud locked his fingers together. “I know you cleaned out dad’s stuff and..” Jules cleared his throat. “Why do you need it.” Renaud laughed. “I was just thinking about it the other day and..” Jules cleared his throat, but this time with more vigor. “ _ Why _ do you need it.” Shooting him a glare, which Renaud reciprocated. “I hope it has nothing to do with Yloise. You know how much mother hates her.” Renaud sighed. “It has nothing to do with Yloise, I swear. I've joined up to work at a goldsmithing guild and-” “That ring was made of wood, I daresay they'd be the slightest impressed.” Renaud didn't have a comeback, rather he wore a straight face. Jules nodded, for the little victories he kept for future blackmail. Renaud inspected the writing desk but after a quick moment gave up. “Honestly, where did it end up?” Jules closed the tome he was reading. “Mom burned it.” Standing speechless for a good while, it was almost as though he could hear Byregot crying from the heavens. “All that hard work!!? Gone!?”

* * *

“Ah Luna you don't understand! She may the most perfect thing I've laid my eyes on!” He sighed. “In fact, I have written a few verses, you care to listen?” Luna shook her head. “No, not at the moment.” She spun her porridge around the bowl, focusing her attention elsewhere. Renaud hadn't touched his food, instead, sat enamoured at the sight of something far off in the distance. “Are neither of you going to eat?” David dropped his culinarian hat onto the table before pulling up a seat next to Luna. “The ingredients to make this costs money, you know.” Both nodded and continued to not eat. “David..” Renaud cautiously edged to the end of his seat. “Yes?” Renaud pulled his hands up to his head and rested his face in his palms. “Like me, you're also a man. You'll understand this more than Luna.” Hearing her name she audibly disagreed. “You know when you have just.. One thing on your mind? It's eating you up inside!” David's face was characteristically blank. “Uh.. No..?” 

He slammed his face into the dining table which caused the hyur to jump a bit. “Augh!” Renaud grumbled. “Neither of you have any passion!” Luna scowled at him, her tail had flared out as she dropped her utensils into her meal while she jumped out of her seat. “I.. see..” David muttered.

“Can't you be serious for once?! We have Scions being held captive, who are probably dead at this point…” She held her hands together, if for prayer. “Think about your friends for once!” But this was Luna, and her interlaced hands served as a hammer for a good slam over the head. Picking up her things, she left in a huff, only to come back to the table a short while after. “You don't spend any time training, you’re constantly getting hurt in fights, and it’s not like you  _ do  _ much!” Renaud peeled his face off of the table to look up at her. “Ouch, that hurts coming from a lady!” She scoffed and turned on her heels. “I thought you liked my songs!”

* * *

The magitek alarms blared so loudly, everything seemed to pulse along with the strobing security lights. Renaud fumbled as he attempted to untie Urianger from his rope cuffs. “You shan't leave your arrows strewn about, thous’t plan hasn't come to full fruition.” Renaud sighed, but it didn't help his racing heart. This moment was not the moment to be taking a break. He slipped the makeshift shackles off of the Scion before scooping up his own equipment. The hyur beside him had done the same with the ropes around Papalymo, who at once began running his hands over his wrists. “From what I can see, they haven't made their way over here just yet.” The lalafell on lookout quickly unsheathed his knives. “I can take a closer look.” The hyur beside him threw his arm outstretched in front of the ninja, holding him back. “I think we should wait here for the others, is that not the plan we decided?” Papalymo cleared his throat. “I’d agree with you, but I don't want to be stuck here. I'm sure we could take on a few guards, but it would be best to get moving.” Urianger nodded, silently agreeing. “I'll take a quick scout than.” The ninja said, before evaporating into the air. All five of them huddled up to the door, awaiting his return. “What do we do if he doesn't come back?” The dragoon asked with concern. “We're going to have to go look for him, obviously.” The paladin retorted. “I’d rather not have to come to that.”

Renaud felt a gust of wind behind him, and in the darkness he spotted the lalafell’s tell-tale heterochromia. “The coast is mostly clear.” The group, shocked, turned to face the small figure in the corner. “But we’re going to have to be quick. If the alarms keep ringing we’ll definitely be surrounded.” Collectively catching their breath, the group moved out into the heart of Castrum Centri.

With the brute force of both a dragoon and ninja, the guards on site were dispatched with ease. Renaud who followed at the back of the group, had his bow drawn taut.  _ Don't fire any off of you don't need to. _ Papalymo’s words rung in his head along with the on-going alarms.  _ You'll catch too much attention, so stay close, and stay hidden. _

They had reached the next storage container, whose entrance was slightly agape. Renaud put away his weapon. What use was it? He need not participate if it will blow their cover. Luna was probably right, if they had sufficient bodies for a mission like this, they wouldn't have bought him along. “Oi! We found the _ krnmmmmmhgh _ !” The guard near the door fell, with the small ninja holding his mouth closed. The Paladin nudged the door open to peek inside. “It doesn't look like there is anyone left here.” Turning back to the group, the hyur’s face twisted into fury. “Damn it!”

“Hand over the captives and drop your weapons.” The Garlean Centurion stood with a precise posture, his disgust was apparent even though the helmet. “I hope you worms didn't think you could slither away.” He unsheathed his sword, pointing it toward the group. “Now, as I was saying. Drop your weapons and return the captives. It's quite an easy task.” From above Renaud could feel the presence of Empire Snipers, which meant they were very much surrounded on all sides. To their front was an entire order of footman, and behind a 100 malm drop into a canyon.

He closed his eyes awaiting to awaken from a vision, but opening them again still shown the same image. The tired faces of his comrades, who smelt of sweat, their loud breaths becoming apparent through the still blaring sirens. The feeling of panic washed over, for in a situation like this,Hydaelyn would not forsake him. Would not forsake his fellow adventurers and colleagues, all of whom exhibited the echo; But she had definitely forgotten about him this time. The Centurion, now stricken with impatience, whipped his blade about. “I've given you orders and you refuse them? Pathetic!” He stomped. “I don't want to harm your valuable friends here, but we are running short on time.” He flashed his blade down, a signal no doubt, as the Archer's began to taut their own bows.

And this was it, he'd be skewered by the weapon of his own persuasion, having believed that the visions in dreams could save him. Renaud shut his eyes, for at the last moment he could be at peace listening to the voice of an angel. The angel who would welcome him with welcome arms once again.

“Get your ass onto the airship…   _ jump _ ! Hurry!”

All emersion was broken hearing Luna call out to the group. Cid had parked the Enterprise near close to the ground, ready to fly off in a hurry. How he hadn't heard the airship was one miracle, the other being how it arrived undetected by the Garleans. The Enterprise had started to dispatch as Renaud struggled to climb on, his feet dangling a bit as he watched the Garleans fire off ammunition in every which way. “That could have gotten hairy.” Cid chuckled, smiling back at the crew all piled on top of each other in the small airship. “It was awesome!” Yda exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air to grab at the currents racing past the speeding airship. It took a few minutes to sink in, but Minfillia half smiled. Though they lost a great number of comrades and it would take time to recuperate, the Wild Rose did not wilt.

“Wait.. Where is Thancred?”

* * *

Embarrassingly he had fallen asleep on the trip back, and during their stop in Revenant's Toll no one had bothered to wake him. Which was probably a good thing, as he had been falling behind on rest after considering Luna’s words. Out of all the other adventurers they've encountered there hasn't been another who used song as an advantage in battle quite the same way he did. In this regard, Renaud had gotten cocky, thinking his spot with the group was owed to him. 

It had always been that way for him, as it wasn't hard to excel when your competition was Jules. His step parents had spoiled him with a sheltered upbringing, his partners had always coddled him and answered to every whim, and with Hydaelyn's blessing of light he had made more than a name for himself within the city-states.

_ Was it earned? _

He had long awoken, staring at the airship’s swaying ceiling. Never before had he felt so lost thinking about the future. Futures were Gilles was still alive, futures where he and Yloise had married, futures where by some luck he hadn't been born with a body of the Keepers and could introduce himself without a looming doubt of who he really was. Had the others ever had thoughts like this? He wondered, as worry stirred in the pit of his stomach. “Awake now?” He wasn't paying attention to whomever began speaking, and instead closed his eyes and rolled over, away from the noise. Obviously he hadn't meant to ignore anyone, but continued to brood. It was OK to have such heavy thoughts every so often, he supposed.

* * *

The long road from the Coerthan Lowlands to Highlands was refreshing, but had Renaud shivering, as the closer he got to the Nail, the more snow had begun to settle on his shoulders. 

He had received a letter from Jehantel, to meet him at Fallgourd Float for something important. His mentor was a man of few words when he had begun training under his tutelage, but slowly over time he had narry of moment of peace as Jehantel spent every moment recalling a tale, or spinning a song. The older man sat at the Bobbing Cork with a large satchel. He invited Renaud to sit and have coffee with him before they set off. “I’d like you to escort me to the Coerthan Highlands.” Jehantel said between sips.  _ One of his lessons _ he thought, slowly sipping at his own cup. “I’ve brought this with me..” He said, gently placing his cup down before opening up a window of the satchel. From just a peek there were more than 4 dozen Nymean Lilies. He closed the bag tightly, and placed it underneath the table.

Renaud had rested his bottom lip on the rim of the mug. “What is that we’ll be doing today?” Jehantel had gotten comfortable in his seat again, and began to speak after picking his mug up again. “My student… You know of my deeds, what I have done in the past.” He had finished his drink and pushed it aside. “But as of late, I realize the courage I thought lost has returned. I figure this is your doing Renaud, your spirit has enkindled me to write a requiem of befitting respect of my fallen companions.” Renaud nodded, continuing to drink. “My soul is overburdened with the suffering of souls long departed, they must be put to rest.”

Reaching the Observatorium they had taken a short break from the trek and bitter wind. Jehantel had pulled out his harp to strum while resting his feet. He was entirely preoccupied, which Renaud didn’t mind. He had learned much from the man in terms of verse and construction of song and had closed his eyes to listen to Jehantel’s breathy and brittle voice. There was always so much emotion held in his words, it was difficult to not get engrossed in the story he had begun to weave. “Ah, Renaud I have something for you.” The sudden stop of the music snapped him out of his daydream. “Oh?” Jehantel rummaged through his belongings before handing a small parcel over to his young bard. The well versed poet smiled, waiting for Renaud to rip open the wrapping. “A gift.” He said, plucking a note. “On mine last journey I had come across it, and I have kept it for many moons. As you are aware, I was ready to leave the Twelveswood, as my pursuit in finding a suitable student was… Less than stellar. I am sure our meeting was preordained. Young one… your desire in song is inspiring to me. And so, I hope you can accept this.” Renaud couldn’t help but smile, being acknowledged for your hard work by the one who sired your skill was more a gift than anything. He tore into the parchment slowly, and revealed a finely woven shirt of various fabric. The sewn in jewels and metal sparkled in the tavern light, glowing in different colours. Renaud was awed at the construction of the shirt, and laid it out on his lap. “I don’t think I’ve worn something so… extravagant before.” He laughed, and Jehantel joined with a chuckle. “I had been given something similar in my youth, alas, it was lost to time among other things. I believe you to be a worthy successor of mine, and thusly deserve the garment.” Putting his harp away with the rest of his belongings, Jehantel picked up the satchel of flowers and urged Renaud on his way.

Arranging the bouquet in the snow filled him with an unknown feeling; He hadn’t known any of his mentor’s comrades, yet the heaviness of their death seemed to lift as he paid respects. Dusting the ice off of his knees, he turned to Jehantel who had already begun his song. 

__ Heed me, O Puissant Althyk...  
_ Turn Thee over the hourglass of time,   
_ __ that we might exalt in the glory of all creation..

__ In Thine exalted name we sing,  
_ that the living may savor life,  
_ __ and the departed know true peace!

His harp resounded a melody in the air, filling Renaud with the hope and courage he had been sorely missing.  _ Is this what my companions feel when I sing.. _ He thought, understanding the power of song for practically the first time. The look in his mentor’s eyes prompted him to sing along, and the two continued until their voices rang hoarse and fingers callus.


	5. SO IT GOES

“Operation Archon.”

Minfilia spoke with confidence, but her posture reflected her uncertainty. With her hand placed gently on her chest, she straightened her back. “After an audience with the Eorzean Alliance, we have deemed it a joint effort to dispel the Garlean foothold.” Her hand tightened into a fist. “The Grand Companies have planned out their attack on multiple bases of operation, leaving way for us to infiltrate their base at Silvertear Lake.” Yolvi, who stood arms crossed nodded. “So you’re asking us to put together an alliance?” Minfilia nodded in agreement. “I've reached out to your Free Company as I have with others of capable stature to assist. We really need all the firepower we can get.”  _ Which means I'm not coming along _ , Renaud sighed. “Luna.” Yolvi stated, in which she quickly turned her head to see him. “You're in charge of Team 3, so get back to me with your teammates.” She grinned, looking to David. ( _ Who probably began to sweat _ ) “Got it!”

The dull thump on his private quarters door increased to a louder pound, different timbers of knocks, until he could hear Luna yelling. “What do you want?” He shouted. “Can't I craft in peace?” Renaud was irritated after ruining the table he was working on. “Just open your door, come on!” Reluctantly he gave up on what he was doing to make his way over to the entrance. Opening the door ever so slightly Luna forcefully pushed her face into the opening. “We're having a meeting.” He nodded. “Ok, and?” He quipped back, brushing the hair out of his face, and slowly beginning to close to door on Luna. “You're coming with me, also.. Why does that table have 5 legs?”

Pensively the Miqo’te held a finger to her chin, squinting at the rabble she threw together in front of her. “Do you think this composition will work?” She leaned towards David, seeking input. David cleared his throat. “Well, we have you.. Me.. Rigel, Rustam, Satoshi, and Renaud..” He himself got caught in thought. “We're almost there, we need a few more people..” Luna sighed. “I don't think we're  _ going _ to get more people.” “Well, we'll just have to work harder!” Satoshi grinned, cheering Luna on only to be interrupted by Rigel’s deadpan “It doesn't quite work that way.” Satoshi sighed. “Ah gee, I guess it doesn't really…” Luna puffed her cheeks out, turning away from the group. “How am I going to tell Yolvi that?” She was thinking aloud, hands on her hips. “I hope you guys have friends that aren’t in this room.”

* * *

He had searched the FC house up and down a few times over, even as going as far as Ul’dah to ask if anyone had encountered a small lalafell along the steps of Nald or Thal. It was normal for Popola to not answer her linkpearl, frequently she had discarded or misplaced it before showing up out of the blue. But it had been more than a week without any sight of her. She had a reckless streak, and above all he wanted to make sure that nothing horrible had fallen unto her; History tends to repeat itself, and he had found her in more than one tight situation.

_ It's heartache, isn't it _ ? He groaned, tossing himself out of bed, doubling over at the edge of the bed frame. He hadn't asked for these feelings, but he couldn't dispel them either. Making his way into the Company’s common room he saw Luna deep into her preparations for Operation Archon. “Still no luck?” She didn't look up from her work. “Yeah..” Renaud mumbled, sitting down at the chair furthest from her. She pushed hair out of her face and looked up to Renaud who had curled up on the small sofa. “You know very well she's capable, you don't need to follow her around like some lost wolf pup.” Renaud scoffed, and peeled himself away from the chair. Luna sighed, returning to her papers.

Only a few weeks prior he had seen Popola’s true vulnerability, and was now plagued with worry about her wellbeing, both physically and now emotionally. Having gone out of the way to Wellwick Wood to gather some materials David needed for their mission, he had come across the small monk. Of course because of the desert heat he hadn't thought of it to be her at all, having everything covered in thick haze and dirt. But this was Renaud; seeing a woman in any kind of distress he was there to offer his services.

“Ah my dear, dry your tears! Did you truly miss me this much?” Her face was something to behold, the cheerful smile normally worn had been replaced with a quivering lip, face soaked from still falling tears. He had seen a face like this many a time, and his heart sunk. The distant, lost look his family bore when they were presented with his father’s lance, the broken faces of those who lived through the Garlean assault on the Waking Sands… It made him angry to see her like this, and tried his best to stay calm. “You know, your voice is unmistakable to me..” He cleared his throat. “I thought I had heard crying, and..”

She held her hands over her face, shaking. “I-I was not..” She squeaked, voice cracking between sobs. “No one needs to see me like this..” He had to choke back the need to lunge into her, instead, he gingerly extended his arm to rub her shoulder and back. “You wouldn't allow even me too see you in this way?” He asked, overstepping his boundaries. “Well..” She spoke softly, meeting eyes for a moment. “You mentioned wanting to meet my family..” Her eyes fixed on the stone before them. She bit her lip and shut her eyes, but could not stop the torrent of tears that began to fall. Unable to watch he pulled her into an embrace as she cried.

The two sat for a good while as she calmed down, recounting her childhood; The granddaughter of a goldsmith who had been swallowed before her very eyes, her hometown whittled to nothing but sand.. As if the events had transpired yesterday, she recounted them vividly. Renaud had almost wanted to ask her age, but instead listened as she spilled her heart out to him. He had also found himself moved to tears, and didn't bother to wipe them away. Having not the words to comfort her, he had begun to sing. A song to help rest the souls of those who have departed, taught to him by Jehantel. Popola had begun to nod off, as the Requiem slowly became a lullaby. Her peaceful face looked so very soft in the desert's setting sun, he couldn't stop himself from rubbing his thumb along her dried cheek.

“I couldn't… Imagine going through that. Having lost everything...” Popola took a deep breath as she leaned on him, both now watching the sunset. “I still draw breath.” Her voice more confident than before. “Not all is lost.” Her determination was inspiring-- the fact that one so young could shoulder all of that gave him a new perspective of his companion. “I understand that losing someone you love is hard. And you've worked past it. I don’t think that’s weak at all.” He had become introspective, having her reveal her reason to adventure had led him to reveal it as well. Up until this point he hadn't the need to speak with anyone about those matters. “I still find myself thinking about my father.” He whispered, pursing his lips together. Strange how difficult it was to articulate into words even though it flew fluidly in his head. “It’s not like he was really my father, anyway.” Renaud laughed, and stopped himself realizing how insensitive that may have sounded to Popola. “I-I meant it as..” She tilted her head up to make eye contact. “Hmm?” He too faced skywards to watch the stars begin to sparkle. “Popola.. You’d agree it is easy to put on a show for someone, right?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Ah, well your convictions are stronger than mine I presume.”

_ Now, how do I say this without sounding foolish…?  _ He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly enough for Popola to take notice. “Trusting someone isn’t easy.. I know you and.. Well, many others don’t trust me. Maybe for different reasons!” He folded his hands over his harp, using it to prop his head up now. “Not many people bring it up, or if they do I’ll just.. change the subject but it has become harder as of late.” He laid out on his back, now making eye contact with his companion who still bore a confused face. “I didn’t choose to become an adventurer, per say. It was more persuasion than anything. You know how the Scions tend to be, they’re kind of pushy aren’t they?” He nodded to himself, now caught in a train of mismatched thoughts pouring out at once. “Anyway, my name, is  _ obviously  _ not my.. real name.” He spoke quickly, tone suddenly becoming more dejected. “A treat it is, living close to twelve summers in such blissful ignorance… Can you believe, I mean, looking back.. Ha  _ ha _ ..” He had completely forgotten Popola was laying next to him in the grass as he rambled to himself getting red in the face. “My family, neighbours, teachers, friends.. All of them Wildwood, so why..” He mumbled the rest to himself.

“Pardon?” Popola asked, her tiny voice caught his attention. “Eh..?” The two stared at each other in the early working of night, forgetting his anecdote while watching the stars shine in her glossy eyes. “I’m confused..” She whispered. Renaud cleared his throat. “As am I.” The statement rung in his ears. “The only reason I continue adventuring is hoping I’ll find... something about my birth family.” He had subconsciously held his hands over his chest, where his necklace could be felt underneath his tunic. Feeling Popola’s small hands on his shoulder he closed his eyes. “For Gridanians, your family sounds truly kindhearted. They loved you enough to welcome you into their life, despite your origin.” She spoke sweetly, almost yawning. “.. Renaud?” “Mm?” “I have never spoken to anyone like this.. I want you to know that I do trust you.. and hope you feel the same.” Now sitting upright upright he plucked a few notes on his harp. “I assure you my dear, I would never intend to gossip about this with anyone. Something so private and intimate should be kept between us, no?” Popola nestled close to him as he continued to strum a tune under the moonlight. It was plenty late, and she slowly began to doze off, fighting to keep her eyes open. He scooped the tired girl into his arms and softly planted a kiss to her lips.  _ I believe I feel the same. _

* * *

As the night began to set in, he had her lay asleep in his lap as he rode his Chocobo through Wellwick Wood up to the Lower Paths. To think their family homes were so close without ever knowing made him laugh to himself. It was close to midnight as the two made it into Quarrymill, still bustling with few adventurers considering the hour. Jules of course was still awake, pondering over something in candlelight at their father’s writing desk.

“ _ Gods _ Renaud, did you win someone's custody battle? Don't tell me it’s Y--” “Shh!” Renaud held his free hand over his mouth. “She's asleep, you twat!” He whispered as loudly as he could. Jules groaned in agreement. “Whose child is that?” He whispered back. Renaud himself sighed. “She's not a child, she’s just... very small..” Popola was heavier than he originally thought, and had to keep shifting to keep her hanging over his shoulder. “I need to use your bed, she needs somewhere to sleep.” Jules’s gasped as silently as he could. “No, give her  _ your _ bed and sleep on the floor!” Not wanting to get into a fight with Jules he shook his head and carried Popola to his small bedroom at the back of the house. He and Jules have always shared a room, but since he had technically ‘left the nest’, the partition between the two beds had gotten wider on Jules’ side. Luckily she was out cold, and he had tucked her into his old bed. Her tiny frame was almost lost in the quilts, which made him smile. It was absolutely adorable, and he so desperately wanted to climb into bed and curl up beside her. Instead he stole the quilts off of Jules unkempt bed and laid on the floor.

* * *

“I didn't even hear you come in last night!” Ophelie had begun lighting a flame on the stove for tea. “How are things dear?” “Ah, could be better.” Renaud laughed. “But good as always.” She began fixing cups for the two of them. “Did your brother tell you he got accepted to the culinary school in Vylbrand? He hasn't stopped talking about it to the neighbours. I'm proud of him, but I'm a little worried he’ll be so far away.. I had a nightmare about it and…” The kettle whistled loudly, causing Jules to shout from the other room. Placing the cup in front of Renaud, she sat across from him at the small table. “As I was saying, I had a nightmare of the ferry capsizing…” She looked down into her cup of tea. “Of course, I also had nightmares worrying about you as well..” Jules sat down adjacent to the both of them. “You need to worry more about  _ him _ than me. He's the trouble maker.” Renaud sneered, and Jules reciprocated. “Is your small friend still asleep? They may be awake, I’m unsure.” Ophelie have Jules a concerned look. “Oh, mother, I brought a companion of mine with me last night.”

Tucking his chair in he almost skipped to his old bedroom, seeing Popola sitting upright in a mass of blankets. “Ah, you are awake? I hope you slept well?” She looked a smidge worried. “Where are we?” Renaud laughed, tousling the hair on her head. “Well it had gotten fairly late and my family home is closer than the Free Company Headquarters so..” He patted her head and sat himself down at the edge of the bed. “Funny how we were always this close, would you agree?” Leaning in he left a kiss on her forehead. “Truly ‘tis fate.” Popola smiled, and he couldn't help but grin back at her.

But the sweet moment faded as Popola’s linkpearl began to ring, causing her to jump in alertness. “A-ah! The Professor!” She clamoured for her linkshell, flustered about something. Renaud covered the device with his hand, shaking his head at her. “It's still early, I'm sure the fellow would understand. Who is this professor anyway? Someone I should know about?” The linkpearl had stopped ringing and Renaud pulled his hand away from the device, instead resting it on her shoulder. “Pay no heed to him, please. Could I be granted a longer audience with you?” Jules, now standing in the doorway, groaned. “Are you two going to have breakfast?” He asked unenthusiastically. “Well of course! A lady can't go hungry!” Renaud smiled back at Popola. “Would you stay and have something to eat with me, at least?” Though hesitant she agreed, and sat spooning her frumenty into Renaud’s bowl as Jules rambled on about nothing in particular.

“So, you're from Thanalan, Popola?” Ophelie asked, cleaning up the plates on the small table. “Would you happen to be the small girl that fights with her bare hands? Forgive me, my son has stories of many adventurers..” Renaud could feel his face flush. Of  _ course _ he had told his mother about the many people he has met, but he didn’t want to embarrass Popola! “You seem much smaller and demure than I had pictured!” Ophelie smiled, softly laughing at her remark. “Ah, mother….” Popola's linkpearl had begun to ring again. It was selfish to keep her away from her duties, and so Renaud helped her off of her chair to retrieve the device. “I hate to see you off so soon.” He sighed, watching her take the call.

Popola had gathered her things, along with a packed lunch from Ophelie, and gazed down at her map. “This is where I shall be heading at the Professor’s instruction.” She pointed at a spot on her small map. “From there, who knows what he has in store for me.” She folded her map up to look up at Renaud. “When your work is done could we.. Meet up again?” He asked. She nodded and put away the map in her satchel. Leaning in he placed a kiss on her forehead again. “If you need me, do not hesitate to call alright? You can trust that I'll do my part.”

* * *

“I'm.. I'm useless!” He cried into his drink, letting his tears and snot hang on his face and chin. Buscarron shook his head, watching over as he cleaned pitchers. The evening was still young, the sky had yet to darken, and yet his patrons were already deep in their cups. “I know.. just how you feel son..” The elezen man beside him threw an arm around Renaud, who typically would shake it off, almost climbed into the man's arms. “I've been wandering myself for at least three dozen summers” He downed the rest of the pitcher with his free hand. “You’ve got to get over yourself.” “Leave me alone..” Renaud whined, clutching his now empty glass. “I’ve lost a companion! What if I could have prevented something..” He hiccuped. “It’s not like I’m..  _ not  _ smooth, come on. It’s plenty hard to  _ not  _ fall in love with me!” The older man pushed Renaud off of his shoulder, almost pushing him off of his bar stool. “Buscarron.. Buscaaaarronnnn...” Mumbling, he had pushed his glass forward. The barkeep shook his head. “The last time I let have you a third drink, I had to kick your poor arse out, Cledwyn.” 

Renaud groaned, got up, and began to walk behind the bar. The barmaid pinned him by the shoulder with a single hand, and pushed him down onto a seat. Buscarron again shook his head. “You shouldn't just.. Serve… Stop that!” She exclaimed, pulling her hand away from Renaud, who decided it was a good idea to rub his face all over her arm. “He’s a paying customer, unlike some others.” Buscarron laughed, and the barmaid tucked her arms close to her chest. “Would you bring him home? Yloise, I'm sure he's...” She chewed at her bottom lip. “I am  _ not _ going to bring him anywhere like this.” Renaud smirked at her, and began laughing. Buscarron had also folded his arms, leading to an air of authority. “I thought that you two..?” Yloise sighed loudly, noticing bar patrons had been eavesdropping. “We aren't.. Exactly…” She eyed Renaud who had gotten up again and began to lean on her. “Quit it!” She groaned, now holding him upright. “Can't you sit still for a moment?” She exhaled, squeezing her eyes closed in annoyance. “No..” He murmured, throwing his weight into an embrace. “You aren't what?” Buscarron laughed, continuing to polish the mug he had been holding onto. Renaud obviously wasn't letting go, and instead he held onto Yloise tighter.

Two pints was enough to numb him to the point of instinct; It was something he had broken down to a science after visiting Buscarron’s the last few nights. He would have to go again for another round of mead to wash away the guilt he felt waking up again in Yloise’s attic room. Nothing had changed since his last stay almost a summer ago. Folded neatly by the armoire laid some of his clothes, shoes, and old leatherworking tools. Why she hadn't thrown his things away was beyond him, and he didn't bother thinking too hard about it with his heavy headache. Despite the creeping nervousness of recent events he felt relaxed laying there.  _ Maybe I shouldn't have left at all _ . The same thought had found its way into his head frequently as of late-- With so many lost friends was adventuring even worth it?  _ Hell _ , was working with the Scions even worth it? He tossed around in bed quickly, trying his hardest to close his eyes and shake the thought. “Awake?” The small voice startled him. “Oh.. yeah.” He tilted his head over his shoulder to see Yloise bundled up in quilts beside him. “You’re up earlier than normal..” She yawned, and huddled up close to his back. “I knew you would come back.” The warmth of her bare chest melted some of his headache, but he grew more uneasy. “We both know you're not cut out for such a life.”  _ We. He didn’t like the sound of ‘we’. _ “I didn't come back.” Her arms around him loosened. “Ah, I see how it is. If Ren didn’t come back, then who is here now? Hmm?” Her tone was unimpressed and straight. But he couldn't think of a rebuttal. “Do you intend to answer me… or?”

“I didn't have any intentions of coming back, if that's what you wanted to hear.” Yloise sighed. “Is it too much to ask for you to accept that you're wrong? You're so stubborn Ren.. And I mean it in a bad way.” Tugging on his shoulder, she pulled him onto his back. “Listen to me, OK? I know more about you than you're likely going to accept, and I think ... ” He couldn't bear to listen to her speech as she sang it night after night. Renaud was keen on making terrible decisions, and the last few were not helping his cause. “Could you stop talking for a moment.” “Pardon?” Yloise was taken aback. “I'm trying to think.” Defeated, she laid on her back beside Renaud. “If you learned to compromise than we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.” She slid out of bed and began picking up clothing strewn on the floor. “Don't you have somewhere to be,  _ Mister Adventurer _ ?” It was a sarcastic remark, her back turned to Renaud. “I do in fact.” She dumped the clothes off of the floor onto his head. “Well, I do believe these are yours.”

* * *

The Maelstrom had taken control of Castrum Marinum, The Twin Adder routed their way through Castrum Centri, and Raubahn gathered his troops together for their push into Castrum Meridianum. “We've engaged a Garlean Officer!” Blared over the linkpearl the Flame Sergeant held in his open palm. “They have Magitek!” Raubahn clenched his fist and muttered something. “Roaille!” The Flame Lieutenant held a salute. “Yes, sir!” “Tell, what of the smaller group coming up behind?” Raubahn crossed his arms tightly. “Sir, they've already made their way into the Praetorium, sir.” He gritted his teeth, visibly angry. “I thought that party was to hang back? More so, who changed plans and failed to inform me?” “That I am unsure of,” the Lieutenant looked solemn. “I would think this work of the Scions.” Raubahn sighed, his voice tense. “At this point it does not matter. Get them on the Linkpearl and get our foot soldiers out of there!”

The lights flickered in the stalled elevator, linkshells all buzzing with a static that seemed to flow in and out with the slowly dimming light. It was shortly after making their descent down further into the Garlean base the elevator swung to a stop, freezing the group in motion for what felt like an eternity. At the very least, they were unharmed and still together.

“Do you think the rest are going to rescue us?” David asked, now hunched in the corner with his shield propped up beside him. “I hope so.” Rustam exhaled. “I'm terribly hungry…” With a collective nod of approval the eight fell back to silence.

Without warning, the tight space erupted into sparks-- An alarm rang clear from above and the elevator plummeted further down. It's halt at the end of its rope left them doubled over, gasping for air. “Is everyone alright?” Rigel’s tone was harsh, his face skewed in shock from what could be seen. In the pitch black basement the only source of light now was the dim illumination from the elevator’s control panel, and a flood light from a room far above them. “We have to get up there.” Renaud stated. Luna sighed. “And how are we going to do that?” Apart from the sirens and alarms blaring above them, the group was quiet. Having the same conversation three consecutive times was enough to drive him mad.

“I'll..! I'll climb!! I'm not going to die down here!” Tackling, grappling, and trying to hold onto the smooth elevator wall was pointless. He was now determined, but continually jumping at the wall left him with the same result. “Y-you’re shaking us..” Popola whispered, the fear of their jail taking a further plunge was clearly seen in her iridescent eyes. The elevator rumbled slightly, the alarms blaring louder from above. “Look at what you’ve done!” Luna shouted. The elevator continued to rumble, tossing the group aside into a pile-up as the wall above them crumbled. Apart from the booming sirens, the screams of the group was deafening enough to not realize the shouting from above.

“Look who it is!” The voice was familiar, but not easily discernible due to the multitude of other noises that were still happening. The dust from the wall crumbling floated around, leaving only a silhouette of a Magitek, and someone waving from the cockpit. “What are you guys doing down here?” The voice shouted again, this time it was clear the voice belonged to Yolvi, as the ringing in everyone's ears had somewhat cleared.

“What are _you_ doing down here?” Rigel shouted back, brushing the crumbled wall off of his nose. From the cockpit Yolvi threw his hands in the air. “I had a very poorly aimed shot!” He yelled, almost laughing. “We had tried blasting down this bulkhead with a set of Magitek Cid managed to get us! And I took a misstep and fired over here!” Standing in the cockpit he waved to someone in the distance. “Lauren! Come look!”

After the short banter, the group huddled close into the corner of the elevator, allowing Yolvi to blast more of the wall down so he could reunite the Legion. One by one they pulled each other out, starting with Popola, as she was the both the smallest and lightest. Second was Rustam, then Luna, Satoshi, and Renaud; leaving Rigel and David last. Of course, they needed the combined strength of Yolvi, Wecki, and Popola to drag David  _ (and whatever the hell he was carrying _ ) out of the elevator.

Yolvi’s face became stern, as a wave of seriousness washed over him. ( _ When this happened, the group almost all simultaneously straightened their posture. _ ) “We’re going to go in further.” He said. “The Garleans await us with some fierce machinations…” He swung back into the Magitek armour and motioned his group to do the same. “We'll be going on ahead, Lauren is going to hang back with your group, alright Luna?” She nodded in approval. “Onwards!” He shouted, and propelled the moving metal forwards.

* * *

The elevator lift had erupted into flames, the Black Wolf laid upon his throne and watched with horror, his raspy breaths heard from behind the mask. Flame sergeants were strewn among the floor alongside wounded adventurers and other shrapnel. 

The machine had ceased while no longer under his command. Only mere moments earlier it was mowing down what little resistance we threw at it. With the power of three Primals in its wake, the Ultima weapon sat amidst it's rubble, it's glossy finish picking up and reflecting the kindle of flames, sparks, and images of adventurers, coated in dirt, blood, and determination.

“Hydaelyn has interfered with our plan once again.” A disembodied voice called through the haze. “Hydaelyn, who grants you  _ pitiful _ creatures her gift… such a waste.” The Ascian appeared before them, his robes billowing in the reaching flames of the Praetorium. “A  _ waste _ .” he stressed again, for good measure. “Corrupting and throwing the balance of all... for what? You pawns are nothing more than a piece of our game-- and I will extinguish your light!” Lahabrea called forth lightning and dark void magics, which raced across the room. The light that had shielded from the Ultima Weapon’s last resort still clung to the adventurers before him, and the arcane magic called forth had not come to harm them. In turn, the weapons we wielded against did not seem to inflict any pain to the Ascian. It was a truce for now, the clashing of light and dark didn't yield any results for either side.

The Ascian had become impatient; the dark aura emanating around him grew with further intensity. Yet, his magicks still were not working as intended. The flames around them grew larger, the heat becoming nigh unbearable. Their prolonged battle was not helping the situation-- it would only be a matter of time before the Praetorium collapsed on them. Battered, but not beaten, the group was close to exhausting all their resources and stamina.

“Try as you may but you.. will not defeat me. You can  _ not _ defeat us.” Yolvi stated, holding his polearm before him. Wecki threw his axe above his head. “What? Did you think we wouldn't go out without a fight?” Lahabrea’s aura grew increasingly aggressive, laughing at their banter. “You'll have to think again if you think to hurt my friends!” Lauren chimed in, her staff gripped tightly with both hands before her. The Legatus had somehow successfully restored morale, and the group had almost begun to circle the frustrated Ascian. “You should rethink who is the  _ waste _ !” Rigel quipped, his smirking reflection visible in his sword. “Together there is naught a foe who would fail to topple before us!” Luna yelled, and one by one, each weapon held before the Ascian began to seemingly glow, brighter and brighter until everything was white.

In a blur of white light the mother crystal had returned her children to safety, and they had emerged triumphantly from the Garlean Stronghold. Congregating at the base of the Agrius crash landing, they began to laugh, cry, and cheer together along with the Scions. It was a relief; Thancred had come back to his regular self, the Black Wolf had been burned by his own flames, and none had sustained any serious injuries. Now was a time for rest-- no planning, no training, only time to spend together and strengthen the bonds they had only begun to forge. Together we were thrust into the Seventh Astral Era by the roaring crescendo of the Keeper.   



End file.
